


Light of My Life

by IneffableHusbands95



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Boys Kissing, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Lights, Established Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, M/M, Married Life, Sherlock is clueless, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-04
Updated: 2020-12-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:28:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27874589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IneffableHusbands95/pseuds/IneffableHusbands95
Summary: Now that he has Rosie, John has decided that he wants to make her first Christmas magical, much to a very Grinch-like Sherlock's chagrin.Right in midst of John's decorating whirlwind, the detective has a revelation about certain aspects of his marriage to John that leave him feeling guilty and ashamed. Luckily for him, John knows just how to cheer him up and prove him wrong.A short, sweet little fic that is mostly tooth-rotting fluff, with a bit of angst mixed in.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 8
Kudos: 57
Collections: Sherlock Xmas 2020





	Light of My Life

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is inspired by the lovely Sherlock_Watson's Xmas 2020 prompt 'lights'.  
> Thanks for the prompt Kat, I hope you like it! 
> 
> I really enjoyed writing this one, and hope it makes you all smile!  
> As always, kudos and respectful comments are welcomed.

It had taken John a solid week to convince Sherlock Holmes that they should decorate every square inch of the flat they could with Christmas lights and decorations this year, and another two days to convince him to _help._

The consulting detective had begrudgingly shuffled along behind John with a toddler-like scowl as he flitted between stores, loading up their trolley with so many expensive items Sherlock was sure they'd be forced to live off instant noodles for a month.

Sherlock _hated_ instant noodles. 

He had been given the important job of carrying Rosie because John had insisted he make himself useful " _somehow"._ He had forgotten how heavy the baby had gotten, and gained a newfound respect for John after holding her for three hours. 

"You look as over your father's antics as I feel" he had whispered to the sleepy infant strapped to his chest, when John had apparently finally decided they were done. 

Sherlock couldn't help but wonder if the only thing that had ended his shopping spree was the fact that if he purchased anything else, it wouldn't have fit into the cab he had just hailed. John shot him a glare as they climbed into the mercifully warm vehicle, and he began securing Rosie with one eyebrow raised. 

"Did you say something, darling?" John challenged, and Sherlock's eyes flitted to the gold wedding band that clinked as the doctor rapped his fingers against the armrest. 

Drawing Sherlock's attention to the fact that they were married now, and there was a certain _activity J_ ohn could withhold from him, was his favourite way to tease the younger man.

"Me? Nothing at all" Sherlock smiled, doing a horrible job of feigning innocence. 

John grinned, turning away to look out the window. "That's what I thought." 

  
  
  


Two hours later, John had made impressive progress in his mission, with the tree and at least half of his decorations up. Sherlock believed that he had been _extremely_ helpful, rocking Rosie's bouncer with his foot while he supervised from his chair. 

An annoyed, exhausted John disappeared into the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea. Once he was out of sight, Sherlock frowned. When he stopped to think about how tired John must be, considering Rosie had let him sleep no more than a few hours a night for the last week, an unfamiliar emotion settled over him- _guilt._

After peering down at the baby for a moment to make certain she was sleeping, Sherlock rose with a sigh and padded over to a large box of lights. He retrieved the huge tangled ball of bulbs and began diligently attempting to untangle them. 

But the harder he tried, the worse the knots became, and his frustration dragged him into more thoughts of the number of times he had failed to truly be there for John when he needed him recently. His mind filled with examples.

Not offering to be the one to get up to Rosie in the middle of the night even though John had work in the morning, cluttering the house with his experiments right after John had finished cleaning- there were a hundred little ways that he could have made his husband's life easier. 

He had been a terrible spouse, and John Watson-Holmes deserved better. 

His arms were now thoroughly tangled into the mess of lights, and he slumped back down into his chair, defeated. 

John returned a moment later with two cups, pausing with a start when he saw Sherlock flopped down dejectedly, the upper half of his body comically wrapped in Christmas lights. 

The doctor laughed, shaking his head. 

"I leave you alone for five minutes unsupervised, and look at the mess you've gotten yourself into! You're worse than our daughter!" 

Sherlock slowly brought his sad gaze up to meet John's, and the other man's amused grin fell. 

"Sherlock? What on earth is wrong?" he asked, absent-mindedly setting the tea aside on a table to approach him.

Sherlock was quiet for a moment, struggling to find words. What was the best way to say 'I'm sorry I've been such an unsupportive, selfish ass for the last three months of our marriage'? 

"Sherlock please, you're starting to scare me now!" 

"John I...I'm sorry." 

John frowned, kneeling and taking the one hand that wasn't being restrained by lights in his. 

"What on earth for? This? They're just cheap lights, Sherlock, it's not a big de-..." 

"No! Not the bloody _lights_!" 

"Then what?" John asked, looking more and more concerned with every passing second.

"For...for being such a _shit_ husband!" Sherlock finally yelled, breathing heavily as he eyed the shocked man knelt before him, mouth agape at the abrupt confession. 

"Christ Sherlock, you might get on my last nerve sometimes, but what on _earth_ put that ridiculous notion into that big brain of yours?"

Sherlock's eyes darted over to Rosie, who mercifully had slept through his yelling. 

"It came to my attention just now how much I've been letting you down, John. You've been working longer hours, Rosie has been so difficult lately that you're so sleep deprived you should probably be dead, dishes and laundry piling up everywhere...and I've done _nothing_ . I'm your husband, and supporting each other is what married people are supposed to do! You deserve someone who supports you John, not _me"_ Sherlock whispered, lowering his head into his hands in shame. 

John tutted, and Sherlock's hands were slowly peeled away from his face. 

"Look at me, love."

Reluctantly the detective met his concerned eyes, the same eyes that had taken his breath away the very first time they met. 

"You are _not_ a shit husband, Sherlock. Sure you can be a little bit of a clueless idiot sometimes, but when I married you, it was because I loved _everything_ about you. Even your flaws. I married you because even now, to this day, I spend every waking moment craving your lips, your touch, resisting the urge to rip your clothes off and have my way with you."

Sherlock couldn't help but grin impishly at the words despite himself, enjoying the revelation that he still had that effect on his husband.

"We have been married all of three months. Add in the two of us being thrust into first time parenthood together at the same time, and there is bound to be a few kinks to work out, Sherlock. If you want to help out a little more with Rosie, I'd love that. But it doesn't mean I don't still fucking _adore_ you. I will always adore you." 

Sherlock closed his eyes for a second.

"And I you, John. If you promise to actually tell this clueless idiot when you want help, I promise to do better in the future." 

John squeezed his hand, and a comfortable silence stretched between them.

"John?"

"Hmm?"

"Will you please help me out of these? I would very much like to kiss you right now." 

John laughed, and they worked together to free Sherlock from his festive bindings. 

"Come here, Doctor. I need tending to" Sherlock whispered huskily. 

With a grin, John climbed up to straddle the detective's lap, and Sherlock crashed his lips to his without a second's hesitation. 

The kiss went from sweet to sensual and desperate in moments, John's hands coming up to slide under Sherlock's shirt and settle on his ribs as they gasped into each other's greedy mouths.

Sherlock _loved_ it when he did that. 

Sherlock's hands found John's short hair, a moan slipping past his lips as he began grinding his hips up into the older man, who shuddered above him. 

Peering back at Rosie to make sure she was still sound asleep, John began to enthusiastically match Sherlock's movements, before suddenly pausing a few moments later. 

"Sherlock, wait" he panted as he let go of Sherlock's warm lips, earning him an annoyed groan from the other man. 

" _What_?" 

"You are the light of my life, do you know that?" John whispered fiercely, reaching out to brush a stray curl out of Sherlock's breathtaking eyes. 

A warm, fuzzy feeling washed over him.

"Yes, but feel free to say it as often as you like." 

John laughed. "Cheeky git." 

Sherlock planted another long, lingering kiss on John's already swollen lips. 

"Perhaps, but I'm _your_ cheeky git." 

John chuckled, and began working on the buttons of Sherlock's shirt. Just as he was about to toss it to the floor, crying began from behind them. 

"So good at interfering with our sex life already, and she's only seven months old" John groaned, slumping against him. 

Sherlock laughed and kissed him on the forehead. 

"I'll handle it this time" he insisted, gently moving John off his lap so he could stand. 

"Just so you know, you are the light of my life too, John Hamish Watson-Holmes." 

It was important to him that John know just how cherished he was. 

"I know" John whispered.

Both men grinned, and Sherlock pressed one last soft kiss to his husband's perfect lips.

Maybe Christmas wasn't so bad after all. 

  
  
  
  
  
  



End file.
